


water

by Catzzy



Series: Hurt Peter Parker [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Drowning, Hurt Peter Parker, It’s MJ, Minor Character Death, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, way longer than it was meant to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 10:13:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17681495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catzzy/pseuds/Catzzy
Summary: He hit the water like it was concrete, gasping as soon as he was under. The water, freezing and so, so bitter, burned at his throat, and he knew he was plunging further down into the darkness.Karen’s voice buzzed, went static, and then cut off altogether. He kicked in the water, trying to push himself upwards or any other direction than down, because hehadto get out.But he couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t see.And things were fading away.





	water

“Brooklyn—Brooklyn Bridge!” Peter shouted. He couldn’t wait. They wouldn’t get here in time and he wouldn’t be able to do it himself.

His arms felt like they were being pulled apart, and his heart like it would jump out his chest with the way it was thrashing wildly against his chest, ringing even louder than Karen’s calculations and failed attempts to calm him down in his ears.

He could make out MJ, disoriented with a cut on her forehead, reaching for the head rest to try and get to the door, not an easy feat being sideways.

And he could see May, eyes wide open and lifting her head up, holding onto the steering wheel and trying to move herself. 

The other car moved again, and he looked to the unconscious driver in the front seat, tugging at the webs keeping May’s car in place to keep them both from toppling over and plunging into the water below.

“How—are you close?” He gasped, because no way were two strings going to keep two huge boxes of metal from sliding down for more than a few minutes at best, and he could already hear and feel the hundreds of webs he’d thrown snap under his wrists.

The comm buzzed in his ears, “ _basically there,_ Tony said confidently, but he didn’t dare relax himself, even though they’d be here in no time. Maybe.

“There’s—there’s a car—it hit May’s and it’s just—it’s sideways and I don’t—“ 

He was vulnerable. As long as he was tugging onto the car, he wouldn’t be able to do anything else. And Rhodey and Tony were both speaking into the comms, and he couldn’t make out any of it.

“Hey, man, look—“ the rest of the sentence thrown carelessly into the air disappeared along with his vision.

He’d be lying if he said it hurt, because he didn’t even feel it. Something jerked him back, and the only reason he knew it hit his head was because he saw it in the corner of his eye a second before it happened.

He let go, and went tumbling backwards, over the ledge and into the air for enough of a second to see the car on the other side, and then another one following it almost immediately. 

He hit the water like it was concrete, gasping as soon as he was under. The water, freezing and so, so bitter, burned at his throat, and he knew he was plunging further down into darkness no matter how hard he flailed his arms.

“ _I’m estab—I’m unable—“ Karen’s voice buzzed, went static, and then cut off altogether. He kicked in the water, trying to push himself upwards or any other direction than down, because he _had__ to get out. The car was under here. They were both in here with him.

They were both here.

He couldn’t breathe, and he needed air but he was so far down and no one even knew. 

He still kicked and tried just touching _something_ that would help him back up. Maybe he wasn’t actually so deep, maybe it just felt like that because he couldn’t see up. Maybe the air was just a touch away.

Or maybe, in an hour, someone would he pulling him out because he died down here. And they’d pull off his mask and...

And he _couldn’t breathe._

He needed air.

His eyes closed, and what he could only describe as mega brain freeze started to disappear along with his thoughts.

* * *

Tony emerged from the water side by side with Rhodey, who had May. They saw the cars go down. And May was already coughing, which meant Rhodey was back down there, pulling out the other driver.

“She’s—she’s not breathing,” Tony panted, pressing down on her chest, “she’s not—“ he stopped and looked up, making out May trembling and barely conscious. 

There were others, screaming, crying and shell-shocked; hurt and injured. He could see ambulances rolling up, some stretchers already loaded. One stood out, because it was a body-bag, and a boy was standing next to it, wailing uncontrollably and being consoled by the paramedics.

“Friday, gimme something,” he said, a sense of hopelessness beginning to swirl in the air around him and pulling him in. 

“ _She hasn’t been breathing for over seven minutes now, there is no pulse_ ,” Friday answered promptly with an undertone of guilt, if that was possible, “ _you’ve administered all aid possible, I don’t think it’s possible to revive her.”_

Peter.

“Pete, where are you?” He said, looking up and around the catastrophic mess. “Friday, where is he?”

“ _The last signal I have of him is where you are standing,_ Friday informed. Something was wrong. 

He couldn’t just leave her. She was—they were both just kids. And she was his girlfriend. He’d be devastated. No, not just that, he’d break. It would be traumatic. _This_ would be his traumatic experience, and he didn’t need this after Titan and Mysterio.

He closed her eyes with his shaking hands, feeling his chest tighten and heart speed up. 

Peter wasn’t around. He wasn’t swinging across the bridge like he would be, or anywhere in sight. He wasn’t calling out to people in that high-pitched voice of his and trying to be way more intimidating than he was.

“He’s—the water? He’s in the water?” Rhodey said frantically, and Tony’s head snapped up. He watched May leap forwards, scream at the water with wild, raging eyes.

He watched her turn, and her horrified expression intensified at the sight of MJ, lying lifelessly on the concrete next to him. 

And then he found himself diving down into the water without a second thought, heading right for the other heat signal he’d missed the first time on the other side of the bridge. He told himself it was because he wasn’t looking for Peter then, which he wasn’t. He should’ve checked.

And then, seconds later, he emerged from the lake, holding an unconscious teenager in his arms. He laid him down on the bridge, took off his mask and breathlessly taking to Friday and pull

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he said nearly every time he pressed down on Peter’s chest. And every single time, he coughed up water but didn’t breathe, “come on.”

He didn’t let go, because Fridays earning were enough to earn him. So he kept at it, until his air ambulance landed and they took over, yelling things he knew but didn’t want to hear.

“Severe hypothermia, and he’s not breathing,” one of them started, “we’re still minutes out.”

“Okay, let’s go with a Supraglottic airway and start him on 100% Oxygen,” the other one suggested, ripping the plastic off a plastic tube, “most likely Hypoxia, he’s been in the water for over seven minutes.”

“Capnography’s showing—“

They wheeled him outwards, and Tony sighed shakily. Okay. Okay, he had things to do — he had to be ready for the arrival, take May back, and MJ. Call her parents. Tell them what happened. But he couldn’t, he wasn’t equipped to be—“

“Listen, I’ll do it,” Rhodey said from behind, and only then Tony heard the soft metallic clanking behind him, and realised Rhodey just read his mind, “I can,” he nodded, “you go.”

Tony considered saying no, and that he would do it, because at least he’d met her a few times and could comfort her parents with that. “Okay.”

The suit covered him again, and he flew upwards into the air, whizzing past the helicopter just taking off and heading to the Compound.

He felt sick.

* * *

“A chest X-ray.”

“After this. A central line’s in place,” Helen said, “push one of atropine and don’t stop the compressions,” she ordered, and she sounded like she knew exactly what she was doing, so that had to count for something.

The door opened, and only Tony turned to see that it was Pepper, looking slightly worn down and not too comfortable with what she’d walked into. Her face easily showed her uneasiness; shock when she looked at the hand that had fallen to the side - pale and unmoving. 

His face, which no one could see properly was hidden underneath the oxygen mask, cannula’s and blankets piled up to his cheeks, which were still doing nothing to change the colour of his purplish-looking skin.

He heard the clicking of her heels get closer, and then felt her hand go across his chest to his shoulder, and he held onto her wrist, eyes glued to the huddle of doctors and nurses in front of him.

“Get more blankets,” Cho said, being handed one almost immediately, “it’s—his temperature is still too low,” she sighed, pausing for a quick second, “I need someone to run a—“

“Is that—V-Fib!” Someone yelled, before anyone else heard it or saw it.

And then the long monotone beeping ripped through the air, pushing a wave of silence into the room as all eyes turned to the monitor.

“Charge—charge to 250! Hurry up!” 

The defibrillators whizzed in the air the moment they were picked up, and everyone moved back in symphony as soon as a ‘clear’ was thrown into the air.

Pepper stepped in front of Tony, and everything was suddenly blurrier than he remembered, and he could barely even make out her face.

He blinked and instantly reached for his neck, then his chest, to stop the stinging every time he took a breath. Breathing was hard sometimes.

“Hey, hey, Tony,” the outline of her head bobbled in front of him worriedly, getting closer and closer, “Tony, come on,” she said again, over the horror of what was going on right behind her. Coming in here was a bad idea.

“Let’s go,” he heard her say, and he didn’t stop himself from being walked out of the room.

* * *

_”You, uh, you look pretty too,” and then Peter’s heart fluttered. This was the moment. Just him and MJ. MJ and him._

“No, I can’t—I can’t feel it—“ 

A pause, and he felt so distant, so out of touch and far from reality that he couldn’t find his way back to the voices, whoever they were.

_”Just keeping the status quo?” Tony raised his eyebrows, eyes narrowed and focused. “Because I get that.”_

_And then everything stopped and settled. He was in one place. The voices were gone. ”That’s not how you play,” Ben slapped at Peter’s hands, and the ball went bouncing right into his._

_Peter laughed, then moved back, “that’s not you play either,” he said, frowning and looking down at his hands. Something felt off._

_The bouncing rang in his ears - the constant hitting of the ball against the floor getting closer and closer, and Ben smiling like it was a casual Sunday afternoon._

_The ball ended up hitting him, and he flailed uselessly trying to grab it when he saw, then watched as it rolled back down into the darkness._

_“Why—why are we here?” He asked, then realised he’d asked the wrong question. What he wanted to know was where they were - what this distantly familiar place was that they were just standing in, and why it was so dark, and why nobody else was around. Why it was just the two of them._

_Ben’s eyes wandered off with the ball, and he looked back, confused, “I followed you,” he said, tapping down his pockets clearly searching for something, “just wait, I said I was sorry.”_

_Peter narrowed his eyes, “what?” He asked impatiently. Ben didn’t say anything, still reaching into his pockets when something flickered behind them, lighting up the shady, eccentric place dimly. He turned around and squinted, then saw that it was the street-lamps. Huh._

_”Ice cream,” Ben said, and Peter turned back around to see Ben’s old wallet in one hand, and a ten dollar note in the other, “I said I was sorry,” he repeated._

_A chill went up Peter’s spine, and he blinked a few times before he shifted in his spot, looking down at the ground. Pavement. Concrete pavement._

_His eyes went to the street-lamp again, and he clenched and unclenched his fists._

_”The streetlights had just turned on?” Someone asked, and he looked around to find Ben gone. A woman was standing there, dressed in casual clothes with her badge showing, clipped onto her belt. “That’s great, Peter, we have a solid timeline now,” her sympathetic tone rang in his ears._

_Peter shook his head, because he didn’t understand what was happening. He held onto the back of his head, and took a few heavy breaths, and then the voices got closer._

_”V-Fib!”_

_V-Fib?_

* * *

“I’m—someone needs to—“ he pointed uselessly and vaguely towards the door, through which he could make out nurses and doctors walking, shouting instructions and occasionally throwing him a worried look. Words weren’t coming to him easy.

Pepper covered the view, and he frowned, moving his head to the side only for hers to reciprocate and follow, “tell me what you need.”

“To know. To know what’s—“ he pointed to the door again and sniffled, “what’s happening in there,” he finally said.

The door opened, and someone hurried down the corridor without so much as looking at him. Both he and Pepper looked up.

“—well, shit then, it’s still only barely 84 and that’s severe hypo—“ the door closed with a soft thud and he threw his head forwards into his palms, kind of relieved he didn’t hear any more of that.

He heard Pepper sigh quietly, and move to sit down by his side. 

And he thought about what the hell he’d been doing when he got the call. He’d been sitting in his chair, telling Peter to ‘calm down’ and that he’d be there soon, because when had Peter not been able to take care of a pile-up before? Never. A pile-up wasn’t something that needed taking care _of_.

Nothing he’d been doing was important. Not nearly as important as this. He should’ve listened to the worry in his voice instead of leaving only when he heard the desperation and cry.

_”I can’t—oh my god—I can’t—I can’t keep them—“_

_Just calm down._

“You got there in time.”

He looked to her like she was crazy, “in time? Two people died. One of them was MJ, his girlfriend, and _he_ is in there. That’s—I wasn’t on time,” he muttered.

Pepper rested her head on his shoulder, “May’s okay,” she said, steering away from the topic, “she wasn’t under for long, so she’s recovering.”

“Yeah, no thanks to me.”

“Tony—“

“I got MJ and Peter out. Look at how that turned out,” he said self-depreciatively.

* * *

_”Just tell me that. No more—no more of the solo vigilante stuff, because I can’t handle it,” Tony shrugged, “and Happy can’t either,” he said with a pointed look._

_”The heart’s not as strong as it used to be,” he quipped, pulling his hand into a fist and lightly hitting his chest twice with it, “trouble comes, you call.”_

_He turned around, and the room lit up with a bright blue. And May appeared, out of nowhere. She paused like she’d just entered the room and forgotten something, “I knew what it was like a second ago,” she said to him, then shook her head in disbelief, and then she was gone._

_He turned back around to where Tony had been, and found himself alone — for a moment just knowing he was trapped somewhere unpleasant and unreal. This wasn’t real. This didn’t feel real._

_”You, uh, you look pretty too,” MJ’s voice echoed in the room, and he turned frantically to search for her. But it was dark. It was so dark, and he couldn’t find her — he couldn’t find any of them. They’d disappeared into the darkness somewhere and left him standing right here._

_”Peter.”_

_He turned so quickly he nearly skidded on his feet, and looked to see her standing right there. Smiling. And she made him smile too. “You...” she trailed off and narrowed her eyes mischievously, “maybe wanna wake up?”_

_Then he stopped smiling. Felt everything crumble down around him. So much dread filling the air. “What?”_

_”Why are you here?” She asked, and he opened his mouth into reply, but he didn’t really have an answer. He didn’t know why he was here, he didn’t even know where ‘here’ was. But she was with him, so it couldn’t be any place bad._

_He shrugged, “Why are you here?” He asked, and she came closer. So close that he could feel her breathe on his own cheeks, and she leaned in._

_”Wake up.”_

_And she was gone._

_”Things like that happen, sometimes—”_

_”— would I say to May? If I hadn’t been able to? What would I say to her to ever make anything okay again? You ever think about that?”_

“ _It’s not a hug._ ”

_”Ben loved you. I love you.”_

_”Hiding something, Parker?” A sweet pause. “ I’m just kid—“_

He gasped, and the voices all shut down. He heard the chatter. Real people speaking real things before he could open his eyes, which felt like they’d been glued shut. “—is back, but that’s still a lot of minutes to be down,” someone said, and that was when he felt his breathing stop.

His eyes fluttered open, and hands didn’t coordinate with his mind like he intended them to.

“That’s not right!” Someone else called desperately, and he saw an unfamiliar face in front of him, concerned and talking, explaining things he didn’t understand in his state of panic. 

His ears felt blocked, like he was still underwater, and everyone in the room was there with him.

Someone took both his hands, and he coughed again. Sick. He felt sick. And there was something in his throat _making_ him sick.

“We can’t take that out, honey,” she said in a frenzy, and man, he felt so cold all of a sudden. He was freezing.

“Did you have a sedative or anaesthetic for him?” A woman asked.

He was seeing red. His eyes felt like they were literally burning, and he felt physically sick, like he’d choke and die right here, wherever he was.

“No,” a voice replied, and he instantly traced that voice to Tony. So that meant he was here. “Help him,” Tony said, and then his face was there in an instant, staring with sad, scared eyes.

Then he realised he was crying. 

“Listen to me, you won’t be able to breathe if they take it out,” he explained, then disappeared from the line of sight, “no, what about normal anaesthesia?”

* * *

“It burns off too quickly, and we can’t give him more,” Helen said, almost a little defensive, over Peter wheezing. “His throat is really swollen, it’s why it’s hurting so much, and taking it out would mean he’d suffocate, and then intubating again would be almost impossible.”

Tony nodded like he understood, “right, so what’s the plan?” He asked, taking hold of Peter’s hand, which was scarily still. 

She looked at him and thought for a good seconds before answering, “we wait.”

“For?”

“Him to pass out.”

“No,” Tony said quickly, “nuh-nuh-no, that’s a—a terrible plan!” He stressed, “listen to him, he’s in pain.”

“I’m not—“ she stopped talking, and looked over to him like she’d had an epiphany. Then she was hovering over him, “Peter, can you follow my finger?” She asked, moving it slowly side to side in front of his eyes.

And Peter didn’t really do a good job with that. He followed it midway until he decided staring at the ceiling was a better choice.

“How about your own fingers? Can you move them for me?” She asked, and both she and Tony looked over to his hands, which laid unmoving. “Peter?”

They twitched. They didn’t move. 

“Hey, Peter,” she said slowly, taking his hand and pressing her fingers on the palm, “you wanna go skiing right about now?”

Tony scoffed and looked to Peter, who hummed what sounded like a yes. 

“Where’s the CT scan?” She asked, standing upright and being handed two floppy pieces of plastic, which she observed closely. “Give him an EEG.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“And another blood test, like right now,” she said, and more people started fussing around, taking out syringes and doing whatever it was that needed to be done. “Maybe brain hypoxia.”

“Okay, let’s start with what that means.”

She put the scans down, “it means the brain isn’t getting enough oxygen,” she told him, “it’s nothing good,” she said, turning to face him. 

“But it’s fixable,” Tony said, and it really didn’t come out like a question. 

Helen didn’t seem concerned, and that was definitely a good thing. “Even in the most severe cases he’d be on a ventilator, and he’s intubated so we have that covered. He should be fine if that’s all it is.”

The ‘if’ wasn’t comforting, but it sounded like things were under control. He yawned involuntarily and realised his eyes were watering.

“Get some sleep.”

“I don’t need sleep,” he said, arrogantly.

“Is that right?” Pepper’s voice called from behind, and he turned to first notice that she’d ditched her heels, “you don’t need sleep.”

He tugged a smile, “I’m Iron Man,” he shrugged, knowing the reaction he’d get. “Iron Man doesn’t sleep.”

“Right,” she scoffed, “you know _you’re_ not a machine though, right? I feel like we’re blurring the lines here.”

“I get by on no sleep all the time.”

And that elicited a huff of air in disbelief, “that’s just... _factually incorrect_ —“

“How many days—“

“Tell me the last time you didn’t sleep,” she challenged, eyes wide in anticipation and giving him less than two seconds to answer, “exactly, because I’m the one whose been taking initiative and making sure we don’t have sleep-deprived zombies walking around—“

He clenched his jaw and looked up to her, “what if he dies?”

Her face was stern, and if she was doubting anything or feeling the least bit of anxiety, he couldn’t see it, “don’t think like that” she said quietly, holding him by the shoulders. “You can’t be going down this path right now.”

He tried moving her hands away, “Pep, I’m—I can’t just—“

“I’m counting on you to not do this. So is Peter. So is May, and so is Morgan, who, by the way, hasn’t even started talking yet.

“Because if we let all this horrible stuff happen to us, all we can do is try and make sure our kids don’t get caught up in it. And you think I don’t get scared?” she said tearfully, and shrugged, “what if she grows up and she wants to be like—like _you_ , and, oh, god,” she inhaled, “you _try_. I know you’d never hurt her, or Peter, or me. You always try your best, and no one is saying otherwise.

He opened his mouth to speak, and she cut him before he got the chance.

“Except you.”

He took her hands, “what if I do? Even if I don’t mean to? Because I’ve done it before, and I say it’s the last until there’s a—y’know there’s a next,” he shakily inhaled, “I’m scared.”

“I know you are.”

“No, I’m—what if the next time I ignore something because I think it’s nothing or because I’m not paying attention or there’s some psycho running across the bridge, something just so, _so_ terrible happens. What do I do, Pep?”

“You remember that you promised for your family that you wouldn’t take this on all yourself. And you remember that bad things happen but they can’t _all_ be on you, Tony.”

“You’ll be with me.”

“I’m always with you.”

* * *

**22 hours later**

“She’s a baby, Hap, why would that ever be a good idea?”

“You literally asked me to get it like yesterday,” Happy frowned, throwing it across the table.

Tony turned to Pepper, scoffing lightly, “I don’t know where he got that idea, I don’t recall saying that.”

“Okay, you can find yourself another driver,” Happy said, slamming the keys down, “now I’ll see how you get to Queens on the weekends.”

Tony turned to him in surprise, “firstly, stop shouting,” he glanced over, “and secondly, take it down a notch Happy Gilmore, I think we can all appreciate—“

“You wanna know what I think? I think you’re both idiots.”

Happy cleared his throat, then sighed, “personally, I said get a walker, you know, the wheelie ones?

Pepper nodded, “that would’ve been better,” she agreed.

And that definitely puzzled Tony, “what did you say? Might as well call it a death machine.”

Pepper’s eyes widened, “okay, woah, can we quit with the dramatics?”

He ran a hand over his face, “babies climb out of those,” he pointed out, “and they fall out, and as much as I love her and she’s special, sure, she’s not gonna be a different kind of baby to—“

“I think he’s waking up,” Happy said, narrowing his eyes and moving the table out of the way. “Does he still need oxygen?”

Tony looked to him, “I don’t know, I’m not the doctor,” he said defensively, watching Peter’s eyes move under his eyelids and hear his breathing get a little louder.

“Yeah, he needs oxygen,” he said randomly, “he had something—“ he blew air out and racked his brain, “hypoxia. He needs it, is the point.”

“Peter?” Happy asked, and Tony glanced at Pepper, standing right behind and looking over the bed.

Tony moved in front of Peter’s face, subtly pushing Happy away, “you up, buddy?”

“Classy,” Happy muttered, standing up straight, “I’m sure he won’t forget you if you’re not the first person he sees.”

“I want you to—stop talking.”

“Can we stop bickering? He’s not even up yet.”

Then Peter’s eyes fluttered open, hazily and foggily, completely unfocused, not seeming to register the three people standing by him.

Then he moved his hand a little, until he reached to the mask and tried pulling at it, which Tony stopped him from doing, “that’s a no, kid,” he said, putting the hand back down.

“Friday, how’s May?”

_“Currently being seen by a doctor.”_

“Bring her here afterwards. And ask Cho to come down too.”

_“Of course, boss.”_

“You’re good,” Tony said to him, “they’re getting May now.” And he wasn’t sure if Peter was listening, or alert enough to understand any of it.

“It’s—I’m…” and that was all he said, mumbling the rest under the mask, and Tony being too afraid to mess with anything, especially the mask, nodded along and watched him fade off. 

He stood up.

“That’s a good sign.”

* * *

“Good?”

“Uh huh,” Peter said, yawning for the fifth time, eyes filling with water, “just really tired. Like super tired.”

“Definitely normal.”

He sagged his shoulders in relief, “you didn’t say where May and MJ are,” he looked to Tony, who was was looking down at the floor. 

“May’s on her way,” he said, “I made Friday set up this—it’s not important,” he said, mouth suddenly going dry.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, and he couldn’t lie. He was never intending to lie, he’d intended to leave this part to May. Or Pepper. Even Happy, just anyone but him. “Mr Stark.”

“I got them out,” Tony started, “but your—MJ, she was—she wasn’t breathing for the whole time she was under and she—“ he motioned to his own forehead, “—hit her head, probably in the fall,” he paused and looked at Peter, who was staring with wide, confused eyes. “She didn’t wake up.”

Peter shook his head, “didn’t wake up—what does that mean she didn’t wake up?” He asked, voice wavering.

Tony looked at him with pure pity, almost certain that he’d told him this in the most worst way possible, “she died,” he told him, scared of the reaction that would come. Whatever it would be, it was going to be bad. 

“No, that’s...”, he shook his head, and Tony wanted nothing more than to tell him otherwise, “that’s—how could everyone else make it out and she didn’t?” He said, a sudden anger in his rising tone, which in hindsight the boy probably didn’t realise.

Tony moved forwards awkwardly, unsure of how to continue, “I know she was your—“

“No, she was—she was alive and she was looking at me,” his eyes moved frantically, “I remember—“

“I know, but when I got there she’d—“

“I don’t get why you’re saying this—“

“Peter. Listen to me, she wasn’t—“

“No!” He yelled and retreated like he’d been touched with fire. He raked his fingers roughly through his hair, “no, I—where’s May? Where’s she? I wanna see—“

He hadn’t realised that May had walked right in, and Peter didn’t either until she wrapped her arms around him, sitting by his bed, and he took hold of her arms.

“I know, I know,” she said softly, running her hand over his hair, “I’m right here.”

“I made her come,” he said, voice muffled, “I told her—“ he sniffled, and held onto her tighter. 

May and Tony shared a sympathetic look, and Tony spoke first.

“This isn’t on you.”

“If she stayed home she’d be fine,” he said, just as quietly, and Tony watched his fingers tighten on May’s arms.

“When you can do the things you can, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

May shot him a glare, clearly confused and unhappy with whatever he was about to say. And he didn’t know if this was the best thing to say to relieve pressure either, but it was a shot. 

Peter sniffled, “yeah,” he said intensely.

“And I was there; Rhodey was there. It happened because of us.”

“No—“

“Collective responsibility,” Tony said, “they teach that in school, right? If it has to be someone’s fault, which I’m saying it wasn’t, by the way, then it’s all of us.”

“You’re saying that to—“

“I’m not. If we were all there, we’re all responsible. That’s how it goes. I don’t make the rules,” he put his hands up in the air.

Peter smiled, “that’s—I don’t know why that makes me feel...”

“Better?” Tony asked, and earned half a shrug and nod. 

And the smile was gone as quick as it came, “I miss her. Right now, I miss her,” he admitted, staring at his fingers. “And I’ll never see her again.”

“You’ll remember her.”

He looked up, “and that’s enough?”

“It’s what’ll keep you going.”

**Author's Note:**

> haHA my medical knowledge is clearly nonexistent because it comes from vague greys anatomy episodes
> 
> omd the title wasn’t meant to be water that was a draft but since I’m unoriginal and can’t come up with anything else we will leave it like that


End file.
